A Mime's Mess
by Steampoweredbunny
Summary: A short drabble of Kurloz having a little fit of insanity due to some perpetual boredom. I like to think he's a really sinister character who does things that no one even knows about. :) NSFW, implications of torture, blood, etc.


**I have an awful habit of promising small things (like updating) and never doing them. :)**

* * *

It was a quiet day in the dreambubble. As it had always been. For the first few hours since he had awakened himself from the pointless nap, Kurloz aimlessly wandered the green pastures of this odd bubble, one that closely resembled the grassy fields of Earth. But it wasn't like he would ever recognize it. Or anyone but Cronus, for that matter.

It was turning out to be a slow day in this ceaseless death they all lived in. No one passed, no one came to chat or interact in any form that would pass the time until each body parted to return home. It was a maddening thing. Kurloz, himself, found no point in staying out. Not when he couldn't find his favorite kittybitch, or his wicked diamond brother, or even a certain wannabe greaser (or whatever it was he called himself) to mess with. Yet, he found himself glued to the spot he had been standing in for a while now, perpetually blank gaze stuck on nothing in particular. Something bumped into him, and it took a few seconds to register what it was. His head slowly craned down to peer at the body, tense and posed awkwardly before him as his lips moved in constant, erratic babbling. The words went unregistered. Kurloz didn't care much to listen. No, he was more interested in the way this troll's lips were moving. They reminded him of his own, back when he _could _talk, and the feeling of deja vu was stirring up the malevolence he was cursed to carry.

There was no one around.

No one would notice a missing body.

Particularly not someone who was simply passing through.

The blueblood ceased his chatter as soon as he noticed the mime leaning in. There was fear in those eyes of his. Fear that was diminished by the bright lavender that swallowed the hues up. A smile spread across the Capricorn's bound lips as he straightened himself up to stand tall, watching as the posture of the troll before him relaxed and mellowed out in contrast to how tense and _ready to bolt _it had been before. He turned on his heel, long legs carrying him towards the eery catacombs which led to his makeshift hive. The smile widened when the sound of footsteps behind him filled his hear ducts, dangerously pulling at the threads woven through his lips enough to force drops of indigo out.

* * *

The struggles ceased not too long ago, but long after he retracted the chucklevoodoos from the male's pan. Was it before or after the needle cut through their upper lip? He couldn't quite remember, being too focused on securing the thread through the creature's, the _troll's _mouth. The threads, black as the material of his suit, were pulled to tightly bind the mouth shut, before he shifted back and up to stand before his creation of art. A smile pulled his lips up as he cast his gaze upon the body, dangling from the chains connected to the ceiling. He didn't want to have to use the chains. He really didn't. But the creature wouldn't stop struggling. So he **stuck **the hooks through the wrists until the points dug into their palms. A mess of dark blue went running down their arms to soak the few bits of clothing that hadn't been shredded and pool at their feet, creating a puddle for them to stand in. Their lips matched the color, smeared in obscene blue and indigo that dripped down the chin and slicked along the flesh of the throat.

He wished they were moving again. Flopping about like a Peixes out of water for too long and writhing in agony as the mime placed cut upon cut on the body. After all, company was nice. Something other than a lifeless shell strung from the ceiling.

The glow in his orbs flickered all the brighter when he slunk closer, gloved hands reaching out to cup the perpetually blank face between the soiled palms. He leaned in, head tilting like that of a curious animal's as he searched the masculine features for any sign of life. His canines bared in a large grin which hadn't been pointed at anything in particular. Just a blank grin that stretched the threads and ripped the skin until they finally snapped under the pressure in a mess of indigo and bits of skin. He would have to clean this mess up; the body, the chains, the blue beginning to crust and dry obscenely on his floor, the _disaster he'd made of his mouth,_ all before any of his quadmates came to visit. Didn't want to scare them, after all. :o)


End file.
